Lestat watched as the woman with the three little dogs went by.
The dogs, and all dogs, in fact, instantly reminded him of Mojo. He smiled very slightly thinking of his German Shepherd. Mojo'd been the best dog. He was certain every owner thought that of their pet, but Lestat greatly believed it to be the case with Mojo.
He skimmed, just gently, at the woman's mind to find out the names of these little waddling dogs that were so different from Mojo. Of course, Lestat was familiar with smaller dog breeds, too. The French nobility kept pugs even in his day.
Waffle.
One was called waffle?!
Lestat began to chuckle. Oh, the poor dog! When his mate was Cujo?! After such an imposing character?! And the other was Butch? Oh, poor, poor Waffle.
He continued to watch the woman and her dogs with an amused gleam in his eye. She was skateboarding and walking them. He did not pretend to understand the appeal of using a rolling board to get around, but then, there was a lot about this century and the previous that would, Lestat knew, always escape him.
He resolved to follow the girl and her dogs. Perhaps she could be a new friend.
In another heartbeat, the vampire was gone from his balcony and his apartment and down on the street, following silently.